


touch starved

by onakissgodknows



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chicago Cubs, Colorado Rockies, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, this got out of control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onakissgodknows/pseuds/onakissgodknows
Summary: It wasn’t like it happened all the time. It was just the one time that spring, and then 2015 to 2017 Jon probably can count the number of times on both hands. Jon had never even been sure how close they were as friends. They’re both a little quiet, a little inclined to being loners, both maybe a little too intense. Maybe that’s why what they did worked. Jon’s never felt like there were less strings attached than whatever he’d been doing with Chatwood.





	touch starved

**Author's Note:**

> So.....I got an anon on tumblr asking if I'd write something with the Rockies pitchers, particularly Chatwood and Gray. I thought that sounded like a fun challenge and I thought I was going to write something pretty short and quick, but then....this happened. 
> 
> This is set in April 2018 when the Cubs play the Rockies at Coors Field. Yes, I checked the schedule for this. That makes this ~technically~ a future fic I guess but not THAT far in the future. See the end for further notes.

Tyler greets Jon like an old friend, which Jon guesses they are now. Chatwood’s one of those guys who was with the Rockies for so long, it kind of felt like he’d always be there. It feels strange to be meeting him at a Denver hotel bar, but Tyler texted and Jon went.

Both of them had an off day today and their teams don’t play each other until tomorrow night. Really, if Tyler had wanted to see Jon it feels like he should have texted earlier, but maybe he’s been busy, retracing his steps over this city where he lived for the past five years.

Whatever the reasoning, Jon shows up at the hotel where the Cubs are staying and Tyler’s in the bar, already halfway through a beer. He smiles and stands up when he sees him. “Hi!” He grabs Jon by the hand and pulls him into a hug.

Jon pounds him between the shoulderblades. “You got shorter, I think,” he says, sitting down on the barstool next to him. Tyler is not a small man by ordinary standards, but as an MLB pitcher, well, even most of the position players are taller and Jon has close to half a foot on him.

“Thanks, man,” Tyler says with a hint of wicked sarcasm, tilting his head back to smirk at him. “That’s how you greet me? No ‘hi, Chatty, how’s it going, I miss you?’”

“Hi, Chatty,” Jon says. “How’s it going?”

The bartender leans over the counter and asks Jon what he wants. He orders a beer and Tyler, after downing the last of his, orders a second.

“It’s good to see you, man,” Tyler says when their drinks come.

“Kind of weird without you this year,” Jon says, agreeing. They lost a few of their veterans to free agency in the fall – Chatwood, notably, and Carlos Gonzalez, Lucroy and Holland too, but they’d only been there for a year. The Rockies are a young team, which bodes well for the future but sometimes it feels like they’ve been thrown in the deep end without a float.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rockies didn’t need me. Better for everybody if I move on.” He sips his beer. “Who’s pitching tomorrow?”

Jon’s surprised Tyler doesn’t know. “Uh. Me?”

“Oh, no kidding? Me too.”

Jon can’t help laughing. “You can’t get away from Coors Field, can you?”

“God!” Tyler massages his temple with his fingers. “I can’t stop having these visions of, like Nolan taking me deep. That’s my nightmare.”

Jon shrugs. “Well. You know what they say.”

“Solo homers won’t kill you? True.”

Nolan’s probably going to want to homer off Chatwood, though. Jon kind of expects he’ll walk into the clubhouse to Nolan talking a big game about it, and then if he actually does it he’ll feel a little bad, because that’s the kind of guy Nolan is.

“How’s Chicago?” Jon blurts out after a couple of quiet moments.

Tyler’s face lights up. “It’s awesome. It’s, you know, kind of what I was hoping for going into the offseason.” He sips and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His beard is fuller now than it was last year.

Tyler’s hand rests on the counter of the bar, only a couple of inches from Jon’s, and Jon’s instinct is simultaneously to either take Tyler’s hand or move his own. He does neither.

He remembers the first time he and Tyler hooked up, spring training 2014, when Jon was still in the minors and Tyler had come over from the Angels a few years prior. He’d turned him down at first, because he thought Tyler was fucking with him because he was a prospect.

It turned out Tyler wasn’t kidding, and he sucked Jon off after a game to prove it, in the locker room after everybody else was gone.

After that – God, it wasn’t like it happened all the time. It was just the one time that spring, and then 2015 to 2017 Jon probably can count the number of times on both hands. Jon had never even been sure how close they were as friends. They’re both a little quiet, a little inclined to being loners, both maybe a little too intense. Maybe that’s why what they did _worked_. Jon’s never felt like there were less strings attached than whatever he’d been doing with Chatwood.

Tyler asked once if Jon wanted Tyler to fuck him, and Jon balked (“ _uh,_ _what?_ ”) and Tyler immediately backed down ( _“it’s okay, Jonny, just asking, no pressure”_ ).  

Mostly he’d let Tyler blow him and then kind of feel selfish about it, but Tyler seemed like he liked it, so Jon didn’t say anything and Tyler never complained.

Jon wonders if Tyler thinks about it as often as he does.

Tyler opens his mouth to say something else, but they’re interrupted by somebody calling, “Hey, Chatty!”

They’re surrounded by a few of Tyler’s Cubs teammates, and he jovially clasps hands with each of them before he points at Jon. “This is my buddy Jon Gray.” He gestures to his teammates, pointing to each of them in turn. “Duensing, Grimm, Gimenez, Hendricks.”

Jon gives them an awkward wave. “Hi.”

“Where ya headed?” Tyler asks them.

“Dinner,” Duensing says. “Everybody else is with their families, and ours stayed home for the off day, so we’re doing the bachelor thing.” He laughs.

“You guys wanna come?” Hendricks asks. “Nowhere fancy.”

Jon doesn’t really want to go to dinner with a bunch of people he doesn’t know, but mercifully Tyler says no. “Pitching tomorrow, you know,” he says.

“See you, then,” says Gimenez.

Hendricks squeezes Tyler’s shoulder as the four of them file out of the bar. “Don’t tell Gray all our secrets!”

Tyler laughs. “You don’t know I haven’t already!” he calls after him. He waits until his teammates are out the door, then says, “Hendricks and I played together in high school for a nanosecond.”

“Oh, cool,” Jon says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. All he’s thinking is maybe Tyler’s already tighter with his new team than he ever was with the Rockies. He wonders if Tyler hooks up with anybody else or if it’s only ever been him.  

Tyler’s looser after two beers, far from drunk, but more talkative and open. “I knew I was never gonna be anybody’s ace – not in Colorado, not when that’s you – “ He pokes Jon hard in the arm when he says that and Jon laughs sheepishly, “ – and like, there’s definitely pressure coming into Chicago because I have a lot to prove after my home ERA last year, and I’m the only pitcher on the staff who wouldn’t be _the_ number one starter on any other team, but they took a chance on me. I feel like it’s going okay so far. You want a whiskey shot?”

Tyler’s been talking so fast Jon doesn’t hear him right. “What?”

“Shot of whiskey. Want one? I’ll buy.”

Jon furrows his brow. He’s only had one drink, so he should be fine, but – “We’re both pitching tomorrow.” It’s weird to say that to Tyler. Normally – well, last year – if one of them was pitching the other was off.

“I’ll be okay,” Tyler says cheerfully, and orders the shots. “If you don’t want it, pick a pretty girl and pretend you bought it for her.”

Jon takes the shot.

It gets him buzzed enough that his head is a little light, just enough to warm him from the inside out, just enough that everything good feels extra good, and Tyler’s sharp smile looks extra sharp.

Tyler closes out their tab and scrawls his signature on the receipt. “If you want to come up to my room I’ll blow you.”

Jon thinks he shouldn’t. He thinks it’s taking advantage of Tyler if he does, even if Tyler’s offering, even if he’s pretty sure this is why Tyler texted him in the first place. He thinks, they’re pitching tomorrow and it’s getting late. He thinks he should go home and drink some water and make sure he sobers up before he sleeps.

He thinks, it’s not that late.

Jon says, “Yeah, okay.”

xxx

Tyler’s mouth tastes like whiskey and beer when Jon kisses him, but kissing is perfunctory, like it always is with them, so it’s not long before Tyler pushes him into an armchair and shrugs his jacket off. He leans in to kiss Jon’s cheek and curls a hand into his hair, tugs gently. “Your hair’s getting so long. Are you going to let it grow out like before?”

Jon shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, when it gets long enough, probably donate it again. Why, you think I shouldn’t?”

“No, I like it,” Tyler says. “It was weird when you cut it. You looked like a different person.” Idly he trails his fingers down Jon’s neck and pops open the top button of his shirt. “Can I?”

Jon nods and helps Tyler unbutton his shirt and shove it off his shoulders, baring his torso. His fingers stroke his shoulders and chest and Jon tilts his head back so Tyler can kiss his throat. Jon sighs, closing his eyes and he moves his hands to Tyler’s waist, slides them under his shirt so they’re pressed against Tyler’s back. Tyler pulls away enough that he can take his shirt off and throw it aside. “I do miss you guys,” Tyler says, and then his mouth traces its way down Jon’s chest and stomach until Tyler’s kneeling between his thighs.

Jon’s breath catches in his chest and he moistens his lips with his tongue, because – well, shit, this gets him hot and he _wants_. Tyler smiles up at him like he’s laughing at something Jon isn’t privy to, and he presses a kiss to Jon’s inner thigh, still covered by his jeans. He works Jon’s belt open, then the zipper, and he pulls Jon’s dick out to mouth at the head. Tyler’s never been much of a tease, doesn’t seem like he cares about making Jon wait – which isn’t to say he doesn’t care about making it _good_. He gives a contented sigh before he wraps a hand around the base of Jon’s cock and swallows him down, but it’s the sigh, the noises he’s making that remind Jon that he’s getting off on this as much as Jon is, that make Jon itch for more. He slouches in the chair, head back, and he puts a hand on the back of Tyler’s head. Tyler makes an encouraging sound and takes him deep as he can, getting him wet and slick and hot, and Jon hisses “ _shit_ ” as he thrusts up into his mouth.

Tyler’s free hand is splayed against Jon’s left thigh, pinning him as best he can while he bobs his head up and down on Jon’s cock. Jon tries to be quiet, not because they’re going to be overheard but because, well, embarrassing, but Tyler unexpectedly lowers his hand to stroke his balls and Jon moans his name before pressing the back of his hand to his mouth.

Tyler pulls off enough to mutter “ _fuck, Jonny_ ” and licks around the head again before getting his mouth back around him. He moves his hand from Jon’s thigh to get his own cock out and he starts jacking himself while he sucks, and Jon lets out a whine and pushes Tyler’s head down, which is kind of mean, but Tyler moans around him and Jon has to catch his breath again. He thinks, wildly, that Tyler looks good like this. He thinks that Tyler has a nice mouth and he traces Tyler’s lips with his thumb where they’re stretched around him.

Tyler pulls off with a wet pop and kisses the head of his cock. “Want you to come in my mouth,” he says breathlessly, his hand still tight on his own cock, and Jon thinks – he wants to make Tyler come, too. “Push me down like that, okay? Fucking hot.” Jon lets out a stuttering moan at that, which only makes him blush, but Tyler grins. “You like that, huh? S’okay. I like it too.”

Tyler’s hot and wet around his cock and Jon scarcely remembers thrusting up into his mouth again, holding his head down while Tyler’s eyes flutter shut and tears pool on his eyelashes. His throat tightens around his cock and Tyler gags just a little, enough that Jon stills for a moment, then he moves again, finding a rhythm that works, and he keeps one hand on the back of Tyler’s head while his other hand scrabbles for purchase on the arm of the chair, searching for something to ground him. “Chatty, I’m gonna – “ It seems rude not to warn him, but Tyler just keeps going, lets Jon thrust into him and come down his throat.

He stays there for a moment, swallowing around him, then slowly pulls off and mouths at Jon’s softening cock, licking him clean as Jon stares up at the ceiling and tries to catch his breath. “So good, Jonny,” Tyler mutters, and Jon looks down at him to see him with his eyes squeezed shut, jacking himself hard and fast. His lips are swollen behind his beard and Jon wants to bite them, kiss them pink, just keep _touching_ him.

“Tyler, come here, I wanna – can I – “ He doesn’t usually offer.

Tyler gets what he’s asking. “Yeah, shit, if you wanna – please, better your hand than mine.” He scrambles into Jon’s lap so he’s straddling his hips, his cock hard and leaking between them and Jon wraps his hand around it and Tyler _keens_.

Maybe they’ve both been a little touch-starved.  

Jon starts jacking him off, trying to match the cadence Tyler had going before (hard and fast, Jon knows that’s what he likes), and Tyler moves his hips with him, fucking into Jon’s fist. Tyler’s wet enough already that Jon doesn’t bother licking his palm or asking about lube. Jon hasn’t done this for Tyler before – hasn’t done it for anybody but himself, actually, but Tyler’s body is responding so nicely Jon doesn’t know why he hasn’t done this before. Tyler isn’t saying anything distinct, just soft moans and harsh breaths, but they’re swimming in Jon’s head with the liquor. If he kept going long enough he could probably get it up again, but he doesn’t want to draw it out. He wants to make Tyler feel good.

Tyler leans his forehead against Jon’s, eyes shut and his breath coming in hot, harsh bursts onto Jon’s face. Jon tilts his head up enough that his lips find Tyler’s. They’re not – not _quite_ kissing, they’re too out of sync for that, but their lips catch the corners of each other’s mouths, Jon traps Tyler’s lower lip between his, and Tyler bites down on Jon’s lip and tugs. His beard skims Jon’s cheek, rough but it sends a shiver down Jon’s spine. Jon, suddenly feeling bold, circles an arm around Tyler’s waist and holds him there while he pumps his cock with his fist.

“Oh, God, yeah, like that,” Tyler breathes against Jon’s lips. “Keep going.”

Everything is just a little bit off pace. Jon’s hand moves faster than Tyler’s hips, they can’t quite get their mouths to line up perfectly, but it’s good. Jon doesn’t mind the soft brushes of Tyler’s lips against his cheek and jaw, and he’s holding Tyler tight enough that the rhythm doesn’t seem to matter, and it seems like no time at all before Tyler arches against him and comes, cursing and muttering Jon’s name as he spills over Jon’s hand onto his stomach.

Tyler collapses against Jon and wraps his arms around him, one hand in Jon’s hair and the other draped around his shoulders. Jon finds himself with his face pressed into the crook of Tyler’s neck, and finds he doesn’t mind at all. He gently moves his hand off Tyler’s cock and wraps both his arms tight around Tyler’s waist.

Jon doesn’t know what he really expected major league baseball to be like, but he never thought he’d find himself in a hotel room with a lapful of his former teammate, half-naked and sweaty and covered in come.

Tyler shifts in his lap but doesn’t untangle himself. “I hate to tell you this,” he says, “but there’s come on your jeans.”

He isn’t wrong. Jon wipes at it with his hand. “It’s dark out,” he says. “Maybe nobody will notice.”

Tyler laughs. “Maybe not. I’d let you borrow something, but anything of mine will be too short on you.” Slowly, like he doesn’t really want to move, he stands up. “Come on. Let’s clean up.”

Jon follows Tyler into the bathroom and they shower. While they’re under the hot water, Tyler’s eyes meet Jon’s contemplatively, and Tyler backs him against the cold tile wall and kisses him. There’s something lazy and leisurely about it now, taking his time exploring Jon’s mouth with his tongue, his hands pressed to Jon’s chest.

Jon doesn’t think they’ve ever kissed just to _kiss_ before.

The water goes cold before long, and they get out and dry off. Jon rakes a hand through his damp hair, knowing it’s a tangled mess, but it’ll be okay.

Tyler dresses in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Jon puts the clothes back on that he came here in, even though Tyler’s totally right about his jeans being dirty. He scrubs at them with a wet washcloth and figures he’ll throw them in the wash when he gets home.

“Hey, Jon?” Tyler says. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, eyebrows furrowed. “You been okay?”

Jon doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “I’m fine. Do I seem okay?”

Tyler shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest. “Yeah, but - I don’t know. After the wild card game – I don’t know, Jonny, I didn’t really talk to any of you after the season ended, and I know that probably wasn’t your best moment.”

Jon makes a face. He doesn’t like thinking about the wild card game because it’s in the past, and if he lets it weigh on him he can’t prove himself like he’s supposed to this year. He can’t become the true ace of this staff if he lets himself wallow in one bad game. “Oh, _that_ ,” is what he says to Tyler now. “Greinke got rocked in that game too. It wasn’t just me.” Also something he’s told himself over and over since that night. “Besides, Chuck talked to me after. It was okay.” It hadn’t been okay, and Charlie had held him in the clubhouse for ages, basically let Jon cry on his shoulder. Jon can hardly even remember what they said to each other, but it was cathartic, at least.

“I felt bad for not checking on you. Pitcher to pitcher, you know.” Tyler screws up his mouth, expression unreadable. “But I’ve never pitched a postseason game. I didn’t know what to say.”

Jon smiles. “It’s okay. You’ll get your chance this year, I bet.”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” Tyler’s face brightens, his sharp smirk hitched back into place.

Jon blushes. “If you do get your chance, and you get shelled like I did, happy to help you deal with it.”

“Yeah? I’ll keep it in mind.” Tyler gets to his feet and goes to him. He strokes Jon’s cheek and tucks his tangled hair behind his ear. “Thanks for tonight. I needed that a hell of a lot.”

“I did too,” Jon admits.

Tyler grins. “Nice to have something new to jerk off to, too.” He laughs when Jon’s blush deepens. “I’d say you should stay, but people might talk.”

“Yeah, I probably should go.” He grabs Tyler’s hand and squeezes. “Come say hi tomorrow, to everybody. We miss ya.”

Tyler’s grin widens. “No, you don’t. I’ll come say hi anyway.”

“Well, we do, though, but – yeah. Good.” He’s unsure what he’s supposed to say, so he leans down and kisses him on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some further comments:  
> -Google will tell you that Tyler Chatwood is six feet tall. Google is a liar.  
> -If the Cubs rotation doesn't change, then Chatwood probably will be the starting pitcher the first game the Cubs play at Coors, which is ironic.  
> -I almost forgot! There's a throwaway mention in there about the Rox losing Carlos Gonzalez to free agency. I know he's back. I wrote that part before all that happened and I just...left it. Because of reasons. (I'm very very happy.)   
> -[Tumblr](https://on-a-kiss-god-knows.tumblr.com/)


End file.
